Don't Read in the Closet: Volume Four (94 page)

tendency to come up to me when I’m sitting where I am now, which is

why I prefer this area and not the office.

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Nick doesn’t wait for me but I know he’s gone out the back, so I

follow him to the alley. There are dumpsters here and it’s dark save

for a lone streetlight high up in the alley, which casts long shadows on

the street. I see a cigarette light up and walk toward the figure in the

shadows, hoping it’s Nick. I’m not easily afraid, but my heartbeat is

pounding in my ears. “What’s up?” I try to say casually.

“Here.” Nick hands me a stack of Xeroxed papers with mug shots

and descriptions on them. I give them a cursory look, but none of the

girls look familiar. “Give these to your contact. So they can stop the

girls at the border.”

I have to will myself to breathe.
Give them to my contact?
What

exactly does Nick know about the real reason I’m here? I decide to

play dumb. “Contact? I don’t know anyone at JFK Immigration,

Nick.”

Nick sniggers and shakes his head. I can see his expression now

I’m closer to him and his gaze is soft as he looks at me.

“You’re a thirty-six year-old ex-marine recruited into the FBI after

what should have been a dishonorable discharge. They wanted you

because of your psych evaluation and your ethnicity, so they took you

off of the Marine Corps’ hands. Your evaluation is a gem. Intensely

loyal. A bit of a loose cannon. Can think on his feet. Can lie without

blinking. So committed to his own lies he probably believes them

himself. Highly intelligent, but good at playing dumb when it benefits

him. Does all this sound familiar?” Nick doesn’t wait for me to

answer. “Of course it doesn’t. They don’t let you read your own

evaluations.”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about, Nick,” I say,

trying to salvage what is left of my cover. How does he know all this?

And who else knows?

“Good at playing dumb,” Nick repeats. “What they didn’t write in

that evaluation was that you’re also good at blending in. Good at

pretending like you’re insignificant to the larger picture. And not so

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good at hiding your sexual inclination. But then I guess that’s what

almost got you dishonorably discharged in the first place.”

Nick is scrutinizing me intensely and I’m torn between caving in

and telling him he’s right and keeping some semblance of control by

denying everything. “I’m no cop, Nick.”

“No, I don’t suppose you are, Matteo,” Nick replies. “They

needed someone in a hurry and only gave you the most cursory

training. Now you’re in deep.”

“What makes you say that?” I ask tentatively.

“You’ve been here, what, six years?”

“Working for The Family, yes,” I answer, still not admitting to

being a spy.

“And before that?”

I shrug. “Petty crime. A little dealing. Freelancing. Trying to work

my way up, you know how that goes.”

“Yes, I do,” Nick answers dryly. “Eighteen years I’ve been

working my way up the Family ladder. First in Philly, then in

Baltimore, now here in the Big Apple.”

“There’s not much left in Philly or Baltimore anymore, Nick,” I

say a little hesitantly.

“That’s because they had a spy there who gave all their dirty little

secrets to the Feds so the Feds could shut them down.”

So I’ve been found out. Was Nick asked to sniff out the spy, like

he’d failed to do in the other places? Will he kill me here in the alley,

or does he want to know who my contact with the outside is before he

stiffs me? It’s becomes painfully clear I’ve ignored all the warning

signs and now, after six years, it’s going to get me killed. There is a

third option, of course. Nick can take me to Michael Benedetti,

Giancarlo’s big brother and the real head of the Family. He’s a

notoriously ruthless man who probably gets off on Medieval torture

techniques and would no doubt make my death slow and painful if he

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had any say in it. And I’m sure he’d have a say in it if Nick took me to

him.

“Nick, please,” I plead. “I don’t have
a contact
.” It isn’t a lie,

though I never thought I’d be happy that Jerry retired two months ago

and they still haven’t assigned me another middle guy. “Where did

you get all this false information?”

Nick takes another drag from his cigarette and offers it to me. I

decline, although I could definitely use something to relax me.

“In Philadelphia it was racketeering. Don’t you love that term? It

sounds so much more romantic than extortion, blackmail, and fraud.

They kicked it up a notch in Baltimore with drugs, bringing in cocaine

through Mexico and transporting it overland, using Baltimore to

distribute it all over the East Coast. When that got too hot, they started

making the drugs themselves. E and GHB and Crystal are so much

cheaper and easier to distribute. You can cook it right here, under

everyone’s noses. But then you know all this, don’t you, Matt?”

I nod. This is easy to admit to. This is part of the Family, not part

of my past or the reason I’ve worked myself into the fabric of the

Benedetti family. This is my Mob past and everyone’s knowledge.

“The labs aren’t too safe, as Carmine found out,” I say.

“I closed down the Philly and Baltimore branches, Matteo.”

I look up at Nick, gauging whether it’s the truth or whether he’s

saying it to make me cave. So he was the spy?

“I was recruited right out of college. Got the full training and was

chosen to go so deep undercover there are only a few people left in the

Bureau who know about me. Those same people know about you, and

I was told to seek you out before we took the main branch of the

Family down, Matt. I have to extract you and make sure you’re safe

once the shit hits the fan.”

“I can take care of myself,” I answer automatically.

“I know that, but this is serious business. We’re not getting them

for the drugs this time. There are too many loopholes and too many

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people involved, so the big shots could get away with it. Instead we’re

getting them for this.” He reaches for the papers that I just realize I’m

still holding. “Human trafficking. All the women they’re bringing into

this country.”

“I’ve no doubt there are loopholes in that accusation as well,” I

say, trying to organize my own jumbled thoughts. Can I really trust

Nick? Everything he’s said so far is spot on. At least the stuff I can

actually fact check, namely my own history. I know some of the

things he’s told me about the other Family branches are true as well. I

figure I have no other choice. If he’s trying to fry me, I’m already

dead, but if he’s really a cop, then working with him might just be my

ticket out of here.

“That’s why we’re getting the main men on different charges.”

“I thought we’re supposed to get them on tax fraud or something,

like they did with Capone?”

“This isn’t the twenties, Matteo. They’d be out as soon as they

were charged. No, we’re getting them on ‘contributing to the

corruption of a minor’ and –”

“That’s a misdemeanor, and you know it,” I interrupt.

“Not if we add repeated statutory rape and we can not only prove

that they knew the kids were underage, but that they brought them

into this country illegally for their own personal use. Once they got

too old, they were put to work in the clubs and replaced by younger

ones.”

“And how are we going to prove that? These girls won’t talk. Not

if it means they’ll be sent back to their country of origin, which to

most of them is a death sentence all by itself.”

“Oh, Matteo,” Nick laments. “You’re getting too involved again.

They’ll take care of the girls as far as the law will permit.” He lifts his

hand to caress my cheek and I can’t resist giving in to the touch. It’s

as if Nick’s confession about his undercover activities opened some

gates I didn’t know were closed until now. For six years nobody but

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my outside contact knew why I was doing what I was doing, and now

Nick knows all about me.

“You need to get out too, Nick. Not just me.”

“I know, but I’m not going to get away scot-free like the last two

times. I can’t spill all the Family’s secrets and wash my hands in

innocence like in Philly or Baltimore. There’s too much dangerous

information floating around and I’m the only one who knows it all.”

“I know a lot as well. And you could tell me what I don’t know.”

“And turn both of us into fugitives? No.”

“Now who’s getting too involved?”

Nick doesn’t answer. Instead he takes my head between his hands

and pulls me into a kiss. I don’t resist. The thought of his kisses has

kept me going for the past weeks, only this time I feel like he means

it. As if now he needs them too. We stand there for I don’t know how

long, kissing and caressing each other through our fancy suits and silk

shirts. He doesn’t try to dominate me, although he knows I like it, but

I don’t mind. When he pulls away from me, it still feels too soon.

“Come home with me?” he asks, and for the first time I see

insecurity seep into his features.

I nod. “But we’ll need to be back here first thing in the morning if

we have to gather more evidence.”

“That’s for tomorrow.” Nick looks me in the eye. “Let’s just live

for tonight.”

I nod and take his hand, leading him back to the alley entrance of

the club. We disengage before walking in, although I instantly miss

his touch. Even in front of the girls, we can’t let on that there’s

anything out of the ordinary going on.

“Tatyana,” I call. She appears from the front of the club. “I’m

leaving early. If anything happens, call me before you call 911,

okay?”

She smiles at me, knowing what I mean.

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By the time I walk outside through the front door, Nick is waiting

for me in his chauffeur-driven car. The partition is already closed and

Nick pulls me closer as soon as the car starts moving. I can’t believe

I’m finally going to have Nick all to myself.

We’re interrupted by his cell phone. He doesn’t stop kissing me as

he fishes it out of his trouser pocket, but pulls away to check the caller

ID.

“Shit, it’s Giancarlo. I need to take this, Matt.”

I sit back and watch Nick take the call. His face clouds over

before he closes his phone. He looks at me and gives me a quick kiss

before leaning over to open the partition. “Take us to the warehouse,

Marty.” Nick turns back to me. “I’m sorry about the detour, Matt. I’ll

try to keep it short, but I can’t promise anything. He sounds like he’s

in one of his moods. It won’t be pretty.”

“We’re doing well at the clubs, right?”

Nick smiles faintly. “Yes, but by now Giancarlo’s found out about

the girls that were apprehended at JFK.”

“I didn’t know that was going down today.”

Nick leans closer and puts his hand on my shoulder. “I used their

pictures to draw you out, Matteo. I’m sorry. I should have told you,

but I got distracted.” He looks at me with “tease” written all over his

face and I can’t help smiling.

The car stops in front of the warehouse and Nick tenses up again.

He runs his hand through my hair and gives me an almost tender look.

“Whatever happens, I’ll make it up to you, okay? I promise.”

I don’t know how to answer or keep my apprehension from

showing, so I kiss him. He relaxes under my touch, which somehow

gives me hope that everything will work out. We walk through the

fake front of the warehouse to Giancarlo’s domain. One of his goons

directs us to a part of the club I haven’t been in yet. The room looks

like a boudoir and I try to hide how distasteful it all is. I manage just

fine until I see Giancarlo on the couch with two naked guys all over

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